Masamune & Hihiirokane
by Trayne
Summary: Two blades, two souls... The legends are now being revealed as acts of the past. We shall start with those who were always one, the first call of Reunion...


Oh ho ho ho… Ideas, temptations, and eventual surrender.

Don't think for a minute that this is a one-shot. Sometimes dreams can come true…

Disclaimer: FFVII and all related stuff aren't mine, but… x3 (oh ho ho ho!)

To Aiddon Raziel Valentine.

Masamune & Hihiirokane

_Long ago, after they lost their wings_

_The new ones were not left without their own Gods, without protection_

_Rahab created for them a new land_

_And gave Leviathan to forever guide and watch over them_

_Knowing that conflict would arise_

_And inspired by Ultima's sacrifice _

_He requested for Rosabis to bestow upon them two blades _

_To be used by their mightiest warriors_

_Rosabis used the most sacred of metals_

_Both sanctified_

_One by Azra_

_The other by Necia_

_Azra _

_Known for having the most radiant of souls_

_Necia_

_Branded with the most ardent of souls_

_Two blades_

_Similar and yet alike_

_Although capable of great destruction_

_Were born for a greater purpose_

_They were passed into legend_

_Becoming the defining factors_

_In the new life the beings_

_Had created for themselves_

_Many remember neither the true origins_

_Of their most sacred treasures_

_Nor their true names_

_Nor that they were born from one…_

They scanned the room of the pagoda; Mako infused jade eyes indifferent to the crimson laced substantially around the room, and the bodies of the several Wutai elite who had fallen to his blade.

What had once been a blade.

His eyes locked on the now broken katana in his right gloved hand, the once decent sword now reduced to a short iron shard attached to a worn hilt. Like so many other swords which had been destroyed during use in his hands, unable to withstand his inhuman might. Not that it became completely useless; but it made his work unnecessarily messy and unrefined.

A frown marring his usually placid, faultless features, he tossed the worthless weapon aside, then proceeded to the other end of the room, where perhaps waited for him something that wouldn't crumble in his hands.

Of course, he wouldn't say he was hopeful. That word never held much for him.

Nevertheless, as his black boots made their way across a sea of corpses – mindful not to step on them – his heart began to pound inside his chest. He frowned again as it only intensified when he reached for the long, relatively thin box that the Wutai soldiers had so devotedly tried in vain to protect.

It actually made him pause. What was so great about this, which was almost in his grasp?

Closing his eyes and shaking his head briefly, causing his long silver locks to sway, he opened the ornate case, soon afterwards withdrawing its treasure.

His brows rose in a rare, small show of surprise. The jet sheath inlaid with silver was impossibly long, meaning it concealed a sword of that same length, which he estimated was equal to his height if not more.

Holding the sheath out in front of his eyes, he slowly began to draw it out, revealing pools of jade Mako reflecting back at him from a perfect mirror. In a few seconds the sheath lay forgotten on the floor as he stared into the steel of this flawless blade. Enticed by its superior craftsmanship, he took a few steps back in order to swing the sword a few times, hearing it whistle as it cut through the air. He swung it in an arch, twisted his wrist and swung again to make a flawless figure eight, then turned, and-

He wasn't sure what made him do it, but his head snapped up as he turned back around and brought the blade back down, and everything seemed to slow or stop completely; the sword in mid-swing, his hair and cape flowing behind him-

For through the paper wall that separated him from the room in front of him – and because of some illumination in that room – it seemed as though his shadow was moving with him on the wall. But something was wrong… no, different.

It didn't move like a shadow, but a reflection – a dark reflection, with the flowing hair and garments and even sword mirroring his movements exactly.

He stood abruptly – as did this 'reflection', at the same, exact moment. He began to walk forward, extending his left, unarmed hand; the dark figure also reaching out towards him…

"I thought I saw him go in here… Ah, Sephiroth, sir!"

The young general regained his composure, lowering his arm to his side and turning to one of the SOLDIERS among the small group that had just arrived who had addressed him.

"Sir!" the young man snapped to attention – as did the rest of the company – and saluted, giving his report. "The capital has surrendered. We have our order to withdraw immediately."

Sephiroth nodded, and began to exit the room after his company after retrieving the sheath. Only once did he pause at the doorway, looking back for what had tempted him through the screen, and found it gone.

It was exhilaration, he concluded suddenly, the feeling that something he had always wanted as even a child – something that deep down he yearned for, and could just feel rightfully long for him as well – had been just within his reach. Somehow, his desire wasn't sated.

No, not quite.

He glanced down once more at the sacred blade – the legendary Masamune, as its guards had cried they'd protect with their lives – but despite the power he now had at his fingertips, he still felt… that there was something more.

But his heart had stopped pounding. The need to fulfill this longing, to reach completion had subsided enough that he could think rationally, once again in control of his actions.

It was only when he departed the room that he again became aware of the blood and bodies littering it.

She whirled around at the sudden crash behind her, dropping her outstretched left arm and aiming the tip of her newly acquired sword at what turned out to be a fallen piece of rubble from the severely damaged ceiling. Growling, she turned back towards what had moments ago imitated her moves – called to her through that mere sheet of paper.

It was gone, somehow making her feel unfulfilled when so close to completion.

Completion of what?

She didn't know, didn't care to reason for once. She had long ago classified this feeling – longing – as something she couldn't explain and didn't need to as a little girl.

It was simply something out there she wanted, needed – was not complete without, and each passing year this yearning only grew more intense.

Huffing to herself, she turned on her heel and stooped to pick up the jet black sheath inlaid with gold that had held the magnificent sword she now wielded. Like some Wutai piss ant would stop her?

After sheathing and attaching the new weapon to her belt – having discarded her now shattered sword a while ago – she swept up her tresses to once again bind them. Some little brat named Yuffie – whom she recognized as the daughter of the lord of Wutai – had caught off her off-guard when she first entered this secret room, dropping onto her head, pulling off her wig and screeching something about not letting her have the sacred treasure. A few choice words and a knock to the head later, the whelp was taken care of. It had taken just a second for the anger to set in at seeing the girl's eyes widen as she must have instantly recognized her features as similar to the other well known set of hair and Mako-drenched eyes.

Her disguise now back in place, she left the room to report back to her infantry, glancing briefly at the unconscious child in the corner. Her left hand came to rest on the handle of the blade – the secreted Hihiirokane – and she found she was not satisfied, even with this in her possession.

_Azra and Necia_

_Were among the first to leave the sacred pilgrimage_

_Though they, too, were stripped of their wings_

_Even the Gods could not take their might_

_Azra remained unperturbed_

_Calm_

_As the full moon resting_

_On a clear, black lake_

_Necia still burned_

_Bold_

_As the risen sun flaming_

_In a stark, white sky_

Desire, lust, passion…

These were words that never before had come to his mind, as they had not been necessary, not since he was a young boy and maturing teen.

He was perfect. He was born that way, refined that perfection as he grew until he was matched by no other. As such, there was nothing he couldn't have. He shouldn't even have had to ask; he could take what he wanted at a moment's will.

Maybe it should have come to no surprise that these feelings were reignited by a woman.

As soon as his body was able, women had been thrown at him. He had speculated that Hojo had wanted more of him, to have future perfect warriors to use for SOLDIER, and had refused them all. There was no room for women in his life, be they for the simple satisfaction of his body or for more intimate reasons.

A woman was an accessory in his life that he simply did not want… but now…

He had found her when the sun burst from behind a hill on the blazing splendor of dawn, the radiance gleaming off the superb blade she wielded. He watched for a few moments, having never before seen a women wield such a weapon in such a way.

Having never seen a woman with a true weapon; all cadets were male in SOLDIER, as women were weaker, and not capable of the aptness a male could provide for such a cause.

She was a true warrior. He could see in the way she moved; she wasn't simply playing with a new toy, she was performing the exercises created for such a weapon. It was similar to his own style, actually, though she moved differently; with grace, but not quite fluidity; the beautiful, deadly style of a fire.

Then she beckoned to him, and he knew she had known he was there the entire time. Wordlessly he drew Masamune, eager to accept the challenge.

They danced.

He would strike intently, and she would just barely dodge, like a flickering flame barely missing bared skin. He would not back away from the fire, and stayed close, daring to get burned, not letting her scorch him.

The heat was coming from inside, as he slowly realized that he wanted to tame this flame, have this blaze as his own and use it. A potential inferno was before him, and he desired to intensify it to that point. If only he pushed harder to have her body under his control, see past her movements and into her mind, so that they moved, thought, as one.

One word whispered intimately into his ear.

_Reunion…_

They stopped only once, and she inquired as to why he seemed so frustrated. He replied calmly that he wasn't frustrated; it just didn't please him to be deceived.

He answered automatically when she asked just how she was deceiving; that this was not her true self. He almost surprised himself, almost questioned himself just how this woman was somehow false, though he had never met her before.

He refused; he never questioned his doubts. He just _knew_.

She smiled, mirroring his own characteristic smirk, and said that if he bested her, he could do with her as he would.

So they resumed.

He began to move with assurance, urging her to move with him, as he wanted to teach her some discipline, make every one of her moves as sure as his. She complied, but still would twist away from her, not allowing him to gain an edge over her. Like a moth drawn to flame, he pursued.

It was as the minutes dragged into hours that he realized this woman had become a passion; a battle of body and spirit, someone that was making him feel as if he had been missing something important for such a long time.

It was the same feeling he got when he acquired Masamune.

Even this blade seemed yearning, as it sung with each slice through the air along with the woman's sword, their harmony resonating through the area.

He dimly became aware that he was exerting himself, his breathing a little more heavy, sheen sweat alighting his body under the high noon sun. Looking at her, he could see her condition was the same.

_Looking_ at her, he began to feel an even stronger pull. It was her eyes; it was beyond the fact that they were glowing with Mako – showing that she was the only woman he was aware of that was infused with the Planet's energies. They were the same color as his, but even more, if eyes were truly the portals into the soul, then this soul, her soul, was…

Their swords had locked, so that they were pushing against each other. But he found that they were actually coming closer together; as Masamune slid along its dance partner, a shrill, pleasant ring emanating from the friction of the two blades, he drew closer to her. Close enough to see clearly past that… that false veil of black that hard partially concealed half her face, close enough to almost see the flawless reflection of his own eyes in hers, the perfect mirror, close enough to feel her breath on his lips, merging with his own-

_Reunion…!_

Faintly, he heard the repeated call of his name, from his regiment no doubt. He found he didn't want to leave this, her, not yet, not until…

Reason grasped at his mind. He eased away from her, Masamune separating from her sword without finishing their note. With no farewell, he turned and left, tempted to stop only once.

_Reunion!_

She watched him walk away, the smirk on her face slowing growing as she felt her disguise begin to slip from her head, ruined by a barely dodged strike. She did nothing to stop it, as she _knew_ that he wouldn't turn back for her. Not today, not yet, but now that _he_ knew, it wouldn't be long.

"We shall be one…"

He missed everything as he vanished beneath the curve of a hill; gravity taking the disguise when it fell from her head; the silver locks that had been trapped beneath being freed; and the glint in Mako and jade eyes full of realization.

"…dear brother."

_When the people of Wutai wished for power,_

_A warrior wielding a great, long sword appeared_

_And though he vanquished all who would crush the dreams of Wutai_

_He revealed that he was not the greatest_

_The blade which he wielded_

_Possessed beneficent power beyond that for destruction_

_And he was not the one_

_Capable of unleashing that power_

_This warrior vanished, leaving only his name_

_The people of Wutai forever held his name in reverence_

_And so the sacred sword he had wielded became his namesake_

_One of Wutai's greatest treasures, the Masamune_

_When the people of Wutai wished for guidance_

_It is said one received a gift from the gods_

_It came in the form of a radiant sword_

_From the light of the very sun_

_The one the gods had given this sword became the first lord of Wutai_

_Showing unmatched tact in their first war_

_He led the people to a golden age_

_That lasted for hundreds of years_

_Secretly he built a shrine adjacent to another great treasure_

_To guard and house the endowment of the gods_

_It was named for how it first appeared to him _

_And became Wutai's most clandestine treasure, Hihiirokane_


End file.
